Moving On
by LocoAndDeep
Summary: John has decided to move on from Mary. Has he found the woman of his dreams at a private sex club? Is she the ONE? The one for him and Rosie?
1. Chapter 1

**Author Notes:**

 **I don't own anyone but the OFC to come.**

 **Many thanks to Mrs. M Crieff for her use of L'amour Noir and our fun PM's!**

 **Many thanks to Lilsherlockian for her beta skills and for listening to my raving before I almost threw my phone across the room!**

 **Enjoy and review!**

 **Ps. Long or short ones accepted to feed my Muses!**

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John was tired. A full day of working at the clinic and then he came home to Rosie... She wasn't a stress really. She helped him to unwind. However, he'd spent the day with sick and screaming children; cold and flu season was alive and well. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good conversation and a tickle between the sheets... BAM! He was reminded that his last time had been over a year ago with Mary; after he emotionally cheated with texts from Sherlock's sister! How time had flown... He sighed.

Rosie picked up on his sadness and crawled up into his lap from her spot on the couch next to him with her favorite picture book. She wrapped her arms around his chest as best she could in a hug. John wrapped an arm around his little girl and sighed again. He had to do something to get out of the rut he was in. Molly... Molly had a finger on the pulse of all the Bart's single ladies, didn't she? Or maybe it was just the hospital's rumor mill at work... Maybe he could subtly talk to her about finding someone to hook up with. He didn't want to offend his friend; she was a good fill-in nanny. Talking to Sherlock about the subject was out of the question.

After feeding Rosie and putting her to bed with a kiss to her temple, John made himself a drink and settled down with a paper he grabbed off the tube. There was another story how the idiot Yank President was trying to start World War III. The former soldier wondered if he would be called to serve again. He couldn't really, not with Rosie and all. He supposed Sherlock would get Mycroft to excuse him after what happened at Sherrinford. He recalled how Sherlock considered him family now...

John flipped onto page five and his eye caught two adverts. One was obviously for women... The other was for men. Both were for a private club called L'amour Noir.

The first advert spoke to women... _Are you tired of men that have no sense of imagination or romance? Tired of men that don't care for your fantasies and only want you to fill their's... Tired of men who don't know what foreplay is? Come to the most elite club in England. At L'amour Noir we offer adventures... Packages of ALL sizes available. We have rules, however, anything that teases and pleasures your senses is allowed._

The other spoke to men... _Are you bored with your significant other? Want a beer and something naked? Your old lady not putting out for you? Come, have an affair! Come, get laid! Come, get your rocks off! L'amour Noir is calling for you! We have plenty of women to satisfy any need... Fill out an application, once approved, let your fun begin!_

The advert directed towards women appealed to John more than the other. A sexual adventure sounded good... He definitely knew what foreplay was and he knew the female body. For Rosie's sake, he couldn't allow strings to tie him down. John had been thinking of waiting until his daughter was around three or so before he chose a new significant other. Rosie might just fall into place with a new lady in his life... But it was too soon to consider a new mummy. A child started to remember around that age and maybe he wouldn't have to bring up painful memories of Mary at all. However, his well-meaning friends and family wouldn't allow him to get away with it for long. The more he realized that he couldn't do that to Rosie either. John needed to tell his little girl about how her mummy loved her and how she sacrificed herself to save him, and Unca Sher-ley.

John finished the paper and put himself to bed. Any more thoughts on L'amour Noir were put away in a file cabinet in his mind; like the one in his office. The next day was going to be another long one. He'd be lucky if he made it through the week without catching something.

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Sometime in the middle of the night, John's house phone went off. He wanted to ignore it because he was so tired. If it was Sherlock, he knew how to text; why would he call the home line? He checked his mobile on the charge pad by his bed... No texts from Sherlock or anyone. The phone rang five times before the machine clicked on. No message was given but the phone began to ring again. John got up that time to stop the ringing before it woke up Rosie.

He answered with a sleepy, "Hello?"

"Brother Little Joooohn! It's your siiister! Cooould you come and get me prrretty pweeze?"

So, Harry was calling because she couldn't get home. Cabbies wouldn't take drunk people home because of the clean up. Some charged extra instead. He did have a sofa pull out she could use and another stern talking to apparently. Maybe he'd sic Rosie on her aunt. Give her one hell of a ringing hangover headache before handing her two aspirin and some water.

"You bloody owe me, Harry! Now, where are you?"

John heard Harry ask someone in the room where she was. Then he heard several people yell back at her the location.

"Got that Little John? Are you gonna come?"

"Yes, Harriet. I will come get you."

The poor tired GP was so sleepy. He stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a cup of cold tea. A few minutes in the microwave and a warm load of caffeine was on its way to his fog-addled brain. Shite! Rosie... So off he went packing up an angry baby, crying because she'd been woken abruptly to go pick up her aunt. A few meters in, while in her car seat, she went back to sleep. Harry really, really owed him...


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: It would appear that Moriarty came to my account to leave a review...**

 **'You need to proofread. Several paragraphs repeated.'**

 **Thank you for this James... I was having posting issues and didn't see it right away. Totally sealed that up.**

 **'The storyline is boring.'**

 **Sooo totally you James... Actually made me smile. You aren't dead yet... I can feel it. I knew you would totally find a story about John Watson's sex life boring after the FIRST chapter! You must come back around sometime and see the NEXT couple chapters. I will be sure they are proofed!**

 **Many thanks to Mrs. M Crieff for the inspiration and Lilsherlockian for her wonderful beta skills!**

 **Hope you all enjoy! Don't forget to feed my Muses with a review!**

 **Thanks bunches!**

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In the morning as John lay in bed, he sent a text to Mrs. Hudson letting her know he'd be dropping Rosie off after they had breakfast. With the aches and pains of a battle-aged body, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and arose. He stretched his back and plodded to the loo. Then back into the room before the armoire for dark gray trousers and a crisp deep blue dress shirt; over that went a light gray jumper. He went to the mirror on the wall by the door and looked upon himself with some disgust; a spirit crushing moment to be sure. His clothing was drab and he had no real bright colors upon his frame. John had heard once that the colors one wore were to reflect your mood... It was obvious that his morning mood was deep, blue, and shades of gray... Like a storm. In truth, he was living in a storm of emotion; he needed to make a decision, stay in his current mood or change it. He quickly examined why... Because he didn't have time to brood over tea and biscuits.

The good doctor missed his late wife, no exciting cases with Sherlock since Sherrinford, he missed sex, and he was anguished over his sister's late night call. He missed having Mary up in the kitchen to start the kettle before she got their daughter up so that he could spend a few more minutes in bed. John missed the way she loved upon his battle-hardened bag of bones but missed her kisses more. The way her hands would somehow sneak under his white t-shirt when she was in the mood all the while she had his lips occupied. A memory of the night Rosie was conceived popped up. He smirked and silently thanked Mary for the memory.

John was glad when Sherlock decided to take some time off to fully recover from what his sister had done to his family. Especially because of what happened to Molly, so that meant no cases for a while and he went back to the clinic. And lately, again there was another dry spell on cases so he had to go back to clinic hours. A baby didn't pay for itself... There was no time for dating and did single parents really get hook ups much? Too complicated. John had tried once, a few months after Sherrinford to do a single parents dating group on a suggestion from Greg and that ended in disaster. At the time he still had buried residual feelings for Mary that some of the mums brought to the surface and it did not help some of the women looked too much like his late wife to stay.

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Then he had to deal with Harry... Allowing her to stick around at his place would be impossible. The longer she stayed either he would end up in a bottle himself or she would stick him with a high pub tab. Too many late night come rescue me calls. He needed to think of Rosie. True, Harry was her aunt but there were limits he had to set. They'd had been estranged for so long... Harry even had to miss his bloody wedding bacause of the open bar! His giving, 'need to rescue the lost,' heart would be broken again if he lost his only sister to disease. She had her moments when she tried to reach out to him but then she would drink and get mean; John couldn't abide by that. He really liked her ex-wife Clara but Harriet ruined any hope of that relationship lasting.

John heard Mary's voice in his ear... "Shit or get off the loo, John!"

Mary was right... No matter what he did, he couldn't change Harriet. She had to want to change herself. He was glad he had a spare room and she wasn't in some gutter somewhere. She would stay until they had a heart to heart. No more of his world could revolve around her if she chose the bottle. Then Harry had to leave or seek a more lasting solution to her disease... He nodded at himself, decision made...

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A little cologne and he was off to greet his baby girl. Rosie could fix any brooding mood he was in. He would fix his hair later in the car once he was at the clinic. Everything had been pushed back because of Harry; adjustments had been made via a few texts to his secretary. She took care of moving his first three appointments of the morning to after lunch. They weren't serious enough for John to rush in to the clinic. A quick stop in the kitchen to get his tea started and then off to Rosie. He knew Harriet would need to sleep off the alcoholic bender she went on. He hated that she still drank as much as she did if not more. Without testing to be certain, cirrhosis had to have begun in her liver. A few more years of the mad drinking behavior and she would certainly have the disease. Maybe one day she'd show up on his clinic's threshold... John still cared for her as he took a short detour, left two paracetamol, a glass of water on the bedside table, and a note that they needed to talk when he got home from the clinic.

Rosamund was up and mindlessly dancing in her crib. She was happy to see her daddy. She giggled as he picked her up.

"Good morning, young lady. How long have you been up?" Usually, she was sleeping when he came to retrieve her.

"Da-da, food," she babbled. "Up!"

She was still trying to learn her words. Mrs. Hudson was working on that with her. Sometimes she did it with Molly too. Sherlock tried to teach her the differences in classical music composers and art masters because John refused to let him discuss cases with her. Mycroft stepped in from time to time to cover geography. Since Sherrinford, the older Holmes brother tried to include him and his baby girl at family gatherings. John just figured that Mycroft owed him after the hell he went through because of his major screw up. He supposed mummy Holmes would have given him hell if he didn't invite the doctor; she had said it was the closest she was going to get to a grandchild. The Holmes parents doted on the little girl because they never got to raise their daughter to adulthood because of their eldest son. It sweetened the deal that John got free childcare. Mrs. Holmes told him once it was nice to have a doctor in the family. He replied with that he couldn't have been the only one. She just smiled and went to check on some scones in the oven.

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Even though she could walk on her own, John carried his baby girl to the kitchen where her high chair was waiting by the dishwasher. A bit of warm rice cereal with strawberries and a scrambled egg for the young lady and for himself toast with peanut butter, and tea in a to-go cup. He gave her the small plastic pink spoon and she dove in. Rosamund would be two soon. John smiled as he thought, 'We got this far didn't we, Mary?' He didn't talk to Mary much out loud for fear he'd screw up his kid. He had no idea that Mary visited Rosie alot when she was asleep in her dreams. When she was finished, a little light clean up, and off they went to Baker Street...

Rosamund saw Mrs. Hudson and fussed until John set her down on the floor of the flat.

"Morning Rosie sweetheart," the older woman greeted. "John dear, shut the door before any of the heat left in here heads to Australia."

"Hi," the small girl spoke and walked slowly to her bin in Mrs. Hudson's living room to attack the stuffed animals within.

"Amazing, she's growing so fast," Martha said as she watched the young one walk on her own.

"Yeah, too fast for me..." John sighed, she would always be his little girl.

"Aren't you late for the clinic?"

"Right and no. Harry rang up last night. Rosie and I were up late getting her to the house. Had this morning moved to after lunch. Schedule handled. Is he home?"

"Not sure dear... He came home late. I haven't been up yet for inspection."

"I'll check back later. I'll try to be back by six. Thank you Mrs. Hudson, you're a life saver."

"Anytime dear. I adore being a godmother... Closest I'm going to get to grandbabies."

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John smirked and left for his car... Once inside, he combed out his hair with the part on the left side. He'd overheard the available ladies at the clinic chatting up how they liked the new sexy look to his hair but most stayed away because he was married. When Mary died, three highly insensitive ladies tried to chat him up as he was grieving. They didn't even care he was a widowed single father! John figured as Rosamund's new mummy, they might hire a full-time nanny and then send poor Rosie off to boarding schools until she was an adult! Shit, Mary might flip in her grave and haunt him for the rest of his life if he married someone that treated Rosie like that. He loved his daughter too much for that to happen, so he avoided them when he could. John was going to have to be careful though in his dating choices of women...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's a little pre-Christmas present!**

 **Much praise goes to my lovely beta Lil!**

 **Don't forget to leave a review and feed John.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Another tiring day gone. Little Simon Dennis threw up on his front... Thank God he had a spare Polo shirt and shoes in the closet. Dammit, he was late getting to Baker Street! John was ready to get Rosie home and to bed before he confronted Harriet. He figured that was about all he had enough energy left to do. He made it to 221A a few minutes after 7pm. Mrs. Hudson fed the baby because the doctor sent a text he was running late. John was up just about every day at 0500 to get ready and start breakfast so Rosie's meals could be kept on schedule for 0600, 1200, and 1800. Rosamund was to be in bed by 1900. Well, today because of his sister, that wasn't possible.

When he got home, John noticed the tracks in the carpeting where someone had vacuumed. The living room was straightened; accent pillows back on the sofa. He wondered if the room really needed all the work... Was cleaning up just one more thing slipping through the cracks? He worried about what else could be being missed; he'd lost more focus than he'd thought. Then he heard, 'Shit,' from the kitchen. Harriet must've been busy with something in there... He carried a sleeping Rosamund into her room and carefully placed her in her crib. With a kiss to her forehead, he tucked her in. John wished that he could fall asleep as easily as his little girl... No nightmares from the battlefield; no war faces to haunt her. No horrible memories of nearly getting burned to death or your best mate killing himself only to find out that he was alive and couldn't trust you with the truth of the plan. No memories of the night Mary died, how she'd died in his arms, or of the day he had to put her in the ground. He was curious about what she did dream about... By the smile on her face, he hoped it was pleasant.

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John discovered that car rides always helped to put her to sleep. Sherlock told him that she had to be falling asleep from boredom, not the actual ride. He responded that not everyone could shoot walls; then suggested that the great detective should take a cab to help him fight his boredom instead of shooting said walls. Poor Mrs. Hudson had just had the wall repaired for the tenth time after the fire bomb from Eurus before Sherlock went and rechristened it with his gun. John's personal feeling was that the incendiary device was Moriarty's idea. He told Sherlock, at the very least to take a cab to Molly's to set him right... He saw at first that the taller man wanted to tell him to bugger off but when he mentioned Molly, Sherlock stood from the ugly-colored leather couch. He dropped the robe he wore and grabbed his coat. John was glad that he was dressed to his satisfaction or he would have made Sherlock change clothes.

With a little more effort, he went to the laundry, already partially full of Rosie's and his other clothing. He threw his soiled shirt in, some of Mary's organic soap, and hit the start button. In 45 minutes all the laundry would be ready for drying so he had that time free to talk to Harry. God, he missed Mary... She had a way of making his clothes smell good without the use of chemicals. She was into organic products with the pregnancy; he thought it was a phase at first because he wasn't sure they would work... But then when they worked, he caved that it wasn't a phase. After her death, he kept up her practice so that someday, Rosie would carry on the tradition. John went to the dining room where his sister had made a meal for the two of them. She had just set down a bowl of fresh-made salad before she went to her brother. She reached out with a guilty look on her face and gave him a hug; it felt uncomfortable to him because they had been estranged for quite some time. John forgave her for having to miss his wedding but he couldn't forgive her for continually chosing the bottle over him. He hugged her back out of kindness and brotherly compassion but it was awkward.

"I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to screw up your night and morning," she spoke before she let him go.

"Yeah, what's all this? I saw you cleaned up."

"This is an, I'm sorry and I'm going to try harder, I promise dinner. I will be gone in the morning if you want. Just don't be mad at me."

"Harry, I'm not mad, I'm worried about your health. You can't keep up the nights you get pissed, yeah. I can't keep getting calls near midnight, I have a child. Rosie should get to know her Aunt Harriet but I can't let that happen if you continue the path you're on," John expressed, hoping that the right amount of emotion would get through to her. "You don't need cirrhosis of the liver, Harry."

"I know, John. And I want all that too. I've heard all the lectures and I want to be clean, I swear. I just..." she sighed. "I was doing better... The food's gonna get cold."

He held her chair out for her and pushed in when she sat. And then slipped into a chair himself.

"I know it's hard, Harry. You're going to have to try harder for Rosie and I," he reached out and squeezed her hand closest to him.

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"Do you know what yesterday was?" She as she put a white cloth napkin on her lap.

John shook his head no, as he placed his napkin on his lap and picked up a fork to get into the salmon before it became cold.

"It's the anniversary of the day I lost my marriage. I found Clara at _Our Club_ eating another woman's snatch."

His fork dropped from his hand and it clattered against his plate.

"Shit," he swore as he picked the metal utensil up.

It didn't escape John that his sister was trying to change the subject... Really, he didnt want to hear about his sister's sex life because it reminded him about his lack of one. He decided to let her have it out before he would have to reign her in; after he found out about this, _'club,'_ where sex acts were allowed.

"Sorry. Anyway, fell off the trolley. I had to stop going to our club where I met Clara and I haven't found anything to replace her or it yet. I know you liked her but I couldn't keep up appearances."

"What club is that? That kind of behavior is allowed?"

"It's a private sex club, members only kind of thing. Have you ever heard of L'amour Noir?"

He looked at his sister with a little curious eyebrow lift.

"Yeah, just saw the advert from the paper, why?"

"When was the last time you had a good _fucking_ time?"

"None of your beeswax, yeah. I'm not gonna bloody hell discuss my sex life with you," he said with irritation in his tone. "I don't even discuss it with my best mate."

"By best man, Sherlock, 'Been single so long his dick's probably fallen off and he didn't notice,' Holmes isn't exactly brilliant in the sack there Little John."

"Don't bloody call me that. I'm not five, Harriet. There's nothing wrong with being gay... I'm sure if you checked with his girlfriend, Molly, she could confirm that it... Ugh! I don't want to talk about Sherlock's sex life any more than I do yours! Granted, it was long time coming but they are happy now."

"Come on, it's been a year John. You sure your knob hasn't shriveled and fallen off?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he uttered with a grumble before he took another bite of salmon.

"Look, I care about _you,_ John... You need to get a leg over some tart and have a good shag. L'amour Noir is the place for it to happen. They opened a new wing not long ago. It's on the second floor above the club, under the BDSM top floor... I haven't been back to check it out."

"I can take care of myself and I want to help you; you're my only sister. Now, what should we do about the drinking?"

"I'll make you a deal... I go to treatment and you check out L'amour Noir's website... If I stay three months, and you're interested, I'll cover a one year membership. You go on me. You'll still have to be checked out, vetted."

John knew she'd never make it that long in treatment if she wasn't serious about kicking the bottle to the curb.

"You stay clean a whole year and I'll become a member, how 'bout that?" He counter offered.

"You're on," she smiled.

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 **Ps. No, really. Please feed John. Don't want him to starve...**


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